Twist My Arm

BY : GeorgeGlass
Category: +G through L > The Loud House
Dragon prints: 14996
Disclaimer: I do not own The Loud House, and I made no money from writing this story.

Chapter 2: Under the Purple Hoodie

Lincoln’s eyes grew huge. “Are- Are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious,” Lori replied, as though only a drooling moron would ask such a question. “I’ve literally only got four more weekends with Bobby, and I need our physical relationship to move forward before we go back to doing the long-distance thing. Which, right now, means his hands on my boobs. Which means your hands on Ronnie Anne’s boobs.”

Please stop saying ‘boobs,’ the speechless Lincoln thought.

“So tomorrow night,” Lori continued, “once we’re about half an hour into the movie, I need you to get after it. Or, them.”

“But…but…” Lincoln managed, “I mean, me and Ronnie Anne…it’s not like we-”

“Why are we even arguing about this?” Lori interrupted with an exasperated eye-roll. “You’re a guy! Don’t you want to feel up Ronnie Anne?”

“What I want is to not have to hold a bag of frozen peas to my eye!”

“Look, just be cool about it. Start off with some kissing or whatever, and then when things get hot and heavy, slide a hand under that purple hoodie, find some skin, and cruise on up to second base. As long as you take your time, I guarantee she’ll be into it.”

Lincoln doubted that Lori could make any such guarantee, but he saw no point in arguing further. There was no changing Lori’s mind when she was in the grip of Bobby-psychosis. 

“Fine,” he sighed. “I’ll…I’ll do it.”

“And remember to put some moisturizer on your hands beforehand,” Lori added. Lincoln tried not to shudder.

As he went back inside the restaurant to clear tables, Lincoln wished that he could talk to Clyde about all this. Clyde was a great listener and often had good advice. But given Clyde’s massive crush on Lori and resultant fierce jealousy of Bobby, Lincoln feared that telling Clyde anything that involved Lori and Bobby making out—or more—would unhinge his bestie. Clyde was normally pretty stable, but anything negative regarding the love of his life, or at least his fantasy life, could send the boy into either a downward spiral of sadness or a berserker rage. Or possibly both.

Which was something Clyde and Lori had in common, Lincoln supposed.


The next night, Lincoln was again in the back of Vanzilla with Ronnie Anne. The movie was It Came From the Landfill, and the two kids were having a good laugh at the cheesy dialogue and even cheesier special effects as a giant garbage monster arose from Staten Island and terrorized ferry passengers as it waded toward Manhattan.

“This is totally wrong,” Lincoln said. “The trash monster wouldn’t just head straight for a bunch of shiny buildings; first it would eat more trash so it could grow bigger.” When Ronnie Anne gave him a look, Lincoln added, “You learn a lot of weird stuff when you’re Lisa’s brother.”

Lincoln was having such a good time that it was only when Lori excused herself and Lincoln to go fetch snacks that he realized that forty minutes had elapsed since the start of the movie.

It was a cooler evening than was usual for this time of year, yet Lincoln felt himself break a sweat as he followed Lori to the food trucks. And his perspiration only intensified when Lori led him around to the far side of Ahmed’s Seoul Food instead of to the window.

“Lincoln,” Lori said sternly as she backed him against the side of the truck, “you don’t seem to remember what you’re supposed to be doing.”

“I’m sorry! I lost track of time and-”

“We have a plan,” Lori hissed, “and you’re going to stick to it! And just in case you forgot, that means you are going to feel up Ronnie Anne like a good little studmuffin so Bobby can do the same to me.”

“But I don’t even-”

Lincoln had been about to say that he didn’t even know how to feel up a girl—not in a way that the girl would like, anyway. But he stopped mid-sentence when he realized that Lori’s probable reaction would be to tell him how. Or even worse, to show him. He could not handle that right now.

“I’ll- I’ll do it. I swear,” Lincoln managed.

Lori’s face brightened, and there was only a hint of mania beneath her smile as she said, “Good. Now, let’s see what kind of food this truck has.”


Fifteen minutes later, Lincoln and Ronnie Anne finished the kimchi kabobs they had been sharing.

“Well, that was weirdly great,” Ronnie Anne said as she wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. 

“Yeah,” Lincoln replied. “Who knew lamb and fermented cabbage would be good together?”

“Exactly. Although it does leave me wondering why there’s almost nothing but fusion cuisine in this town.”

“Huh. I never noticed that.”

Lincoln turned his gaze toward the front of the van and saw Lori and Bobby gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes. As Lincoln looked, for a split second, Lori gave him a side-eye glance that was urgent and not a little menacing.

He knew he had to act quickly. Otherwise, he doubted it would be more than a few minutes before he again found the back of his head against the side of a food truck.

So he did the only thing he could think of: He fake-yawned, stretching his arms up above his head and then down in a wide arc so that one of them landed gently on Ronnie Anne’s shoulders. Ronnie Anne laughed.

“Seriously? The guy in the movie tried that with his date ten minutes ago, right before the trash monster destroyed the cineplex.”

“Sorry,” Lincoln said as his face warmed. “I just wanted to, you know…”

“I know,” Ronnie Anne replied, her face breaking into a smile. “Just don’t be such a dork about it.”

She snuggled closer to him, and they kissed. Then they kissed a second time, and a third, and soon they were making out as avidly as they had the previous Friday night.

For minutes, Lincoln joyfully carried on with this activity, soaking up the pleasures of being in such intimate contact with Ronnie Anne. Her lips and body were soft and warm against his, and beneath the residual odor of spray paint that she’d acquired since starting art camp, she had a sweet girl-smell that he couldn’t seem to inhale enough of.

But then Lincoln, out of the corner of his eye, caught a flash of Lori’s blonde hair, and he remembered that this was not all that he was meant to do tonight. So he took a mental deep breath and ran his palms down the back of Ronnie Anne’s hoodie until they reached the hem. 

Ronnie Anne had a T-shirt on underneath, but it wasn’t tucked into her shorts. So when Lincoln’s hands pressed against the lowest part of Ronnie Anne’s back and slid upward, they encountered nothing but smooth, bare skin.

Ronnie Anne seemed to slow down for a moment as she registered this new level of touch. But then she began kissing him even more fervently than before. And within a minute, her own hands had disappeared beneath Lincoln’s orange shirttail, exploring his back as he was exploring hers.

This result was as encouraging as any Lincoln could possibly have hoped for. But he didn’t dare proceed too quickly to his ultimate objective. Ronnie Anne was not the sort of person you wanted to startle.

So it was with deliberate slowness that Lincoln’s hands worked their way up and then down Ronnie Anne’s back, around to caress the sides of her waist, and then to her flat stomach.

Finally, mentally bracing himself, he moved his hands up toward Ronnie Anne’s chest. But before his fingertips even made it to the bottom of her rib cage, he chickened out, circling his hands back downward again. He tried again, and again, but although he got millimeters closer each time, he couldn’t quite get up the nerve to actually put his hands where he was supposed to—and where, now, he very much wanted to put them.

But it seemed that each time he tried and failed, Ronnie Anne grew even more passionate and eager. Her tongue was exploring every part of Lincoln’s mouth as vigorously as her hands were his torso.

Then Lincoln remembered what Lori had told him that night when she first raised the subject of second base: As long as you take your time, she’ll be into it. And now Lincoln was beginning to understand what she’d meant. Because maybe, from Ronnie Anne’s point of view, Lincoln wasn’t chickening out but was instead taking it slow, teasing her with anticipation.

Ironically, it was that thought that gave Lincoln the courage he needed to slide his hands up Ronnie Anne’s warm, flat stomach once again—and then keep going, crossing the border of her rib cage and up onto her chest.

Earlier, when Lincoln had been running his hands all over Ronnie Anne’s back, he hadn’t considered the implications of the fact that he had found nothing but skin beneath her T-shirt—that is, that his fingers had not encountered a bra strap. So he was surprised when her little breasts turned out to be entirely bare when Lincoln’s hands found them.

The sensation was amazing. Lincoln had never in his life touched anything so soft as the flesh of Ronnie Anne’s developing breasts. Which made the contrast between them and her rock-hard nipples even more astounding.

Ronnie Anne moaned loudly in Lincoln’s ear and pulled him to her hard, kissing him forcefully while pushing her tiny breasts against his hands. Lincoln squeezed them, trying to be gentle despite his extreme arousal; then he began truly feeling her up, exploring every square inch of her little breasts with his fingertips.

They feel so amazingly good, Lincoln thought. I never want to stop touching them.

Ronnie Anne stopped kissing him and put her head next to his, breathing in his ear as he felt her up.

“Oh, wow…” she panted. “That feels…so good…”

“Oh, Ronnie Anne…” Lincoln breathed.

Lincoln’s fingers now found their way to Ronnie Anne’s hard little nipples. Not sure exactly what to do, Lincoln rubbed both of them in little circles with his fingertips. 

Ronnie Anne went from panting to whimpering. It was pretty clearly a sound of pleasure, so Lincoln kept it up, applying just a little more pressure. Ronnie Anne’s nipples grew even harder, like tiny pebbles. And when it occurred to Lincoln to take those pebbles and roll them gently between his fingers, the girl’s whimpering grew louder and louder.

Suddenly, she seized his face and kissed him, hard. Then she fell back away from him, forcing him to let go of her little breasts. They both gasped for breath.

“Oh, God…Lincoln…” Ronnie Anne panted. “I…I can’t handle any more…”

“You’re…you’re right…” Lincoln puffed. “That was…so…intense…”

Only then did Lincoln even think of glancing at the front seat. Lori and Bobby were making out fervently; both of Bobby’s hands were up under Lori’s top, and Lori’s bra was hanging off Vanzilla’s three-on-the-tree gearshift.

Suddenly, they heard the sound of the car parked next to theirs starting up. Lincoln glanced at the movie screen and saw that the credits were rolling.

Bobby straightened up and yanked his hands out of Lori’s blue tank top, perhaps worried about being seen by the other movie patrons now that they were no longer focused on the screen. Lori quickly put her bra back on beneath her top and started up Vanzilla.

“Well,” she said, panting a little, “that was a, um, fun evening.”

“Definitely,” Bobby replied. “You guys up for doing this again next Friday?”

“For sure!” Lori replied quickly. “Right, Lincoln?”

“Uh, yeah, definitely,” Lincoln replied.

He wasn’t even sure whether he was saying it out of fear of Lori or desire for Ronnie Anne and her amazingly soft little breasts. But right now, both seemed like valid reasons.

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